


It's Fate or Whatever

by Mizufae



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Magic, Museums
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-01
Updated: 2012-12-01
Packaged: 2017-11-20 00:24:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/579265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mizufae/pseuds/Mizufae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Arthur's tutor Merlin is gorgeous and he must have him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Fate or Whatever

**Author's Note:**

> Thank yous to my sweet cheerleader and fandom life-partner [Malu_3](http://malu-3.livejournal.com/), and HUGE GRATEFUL AMAZED BOWING to the most wonderful beta and genius [Violette_Royale](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Violette_Royale/). They held my hand and allowed me to gnash my teeth and wail all I wanted as I worked up and tossed out at least four entirely separate possible fics. Violette, in particular, was a wonderful, almost accidental treasure, and I'm more and more pleased every day to have met her. To the prompter, I know I have not hit the mark exactly, but I do hope that I have provided something pleasing nonetheless.

“He’s gorgeous and I must have him,” Arthur declared, flopping down with a squeak on the skinny, shitty mattress.

Gwaine deigned to roll up onto his side, but not to respond verbally. Arthur took this as permission to go on.

“You wouldn’t understand. For one, you appear to be tragically straight, much to my horny sadness. And for another, you probably respond poorly to authority figures. Theraputic massage? What kind of degree is that?”

Gwaine huffed. “One where I don’t fall in lust with my tutor on his first day of class.”

“That’s just because your courses all require no more than basic memorization. You don’t even need your tutors.”

“No, it’s because we get out all our sexual tension by practising on each other.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow at the tone in which Gwaine had said the word “practising.”

“Weren’t we talking about Merlin? How did we get so off topic?”

“You were talking about Merlin. I was thinking about having a wank, but then you bloody appeared to gay up the place.”

Arthur pinked a bit, taking in the Bowie poster and the rainbow garlands and the liberally strewn glittery accessories. So maybe it had been a bit much, but he’d been worried about sharing a room with someone who didn’t know.

“You know, I can, well, the Duran Duran doesn’t have to stay,” he said, gesturing to the ceiling.

Gwaine sighed. “No no, you gay up the place as much as you want. Girls like it. Makes them feel like I’m sensitive and shit. We had a deal, right? It’s still on.”

Arthur smiled. Yeah, the deal worked out okay for Gwaine. And okay for Arthur, too. He’d been a bit reactionary, finally out of his father’s house and at his mother’s school, and it was only after a few months of Gaysoc that he’d realized just how overboard he’d gone. Well, maybe it wasn’t pouring his queer heart out at the pub so much as the day his sparkly pink football shorts had got an unwashable stain and he couldn’t find a replacement. He had priorities, after all.

“The deal’s still on.” When Arthur had shown up at his new dorm, ahead of schedule with far too many boxes, he’d been defensive as hell. But Gwaine had managed to calm him down by sheer immovable unharriedness. It didn’t matter what naff thing Arthur showed up wearing or doing or flailing about, all through that first week. Gwaine would ask for another beer, or bring Arthur to play cards with his mates anyway, or be entirely nonplussed about any and all problems regarding Arthur’s dramatic backstory and baggage, until Arthur had sat back and realized he’d never once asked Gwaine about himself.

Gwaine had struck the deal, then. Arthur could rant all he liked and do whatever he needed to do, as long as he never, ever pried.

So Arthur didn’t pry and Gwaine seemed fine and everybody was happy, until a tutor and assistant for the wheelchair-bound professor of Arthur’s national history class got too pregnant and switched mid-semester with the most beautiful man Arthur had ever seen in his entire gay life.

“Look,” Gwaine said, sitting up properly. “Are you sure you don’t want this Merlin guy purely because of his name? Because if it’s a name thing, I’ve got like, at least three Merlins I know back home and at least one of them’s got to be bicurious...”

Arthur ignored the distractionary tactic of dangling information about Gwaine’s mysterious past by way of sheer offense. “Of course it’s not his name! For fuck’s sake, if I had a hard on for every poor bastard named Merlin I wouldn’t have been able to get through secondary!”

The country of Albion had a few quirks. For one, it was not at all part of the UK despite being surrounded by it on three sides. For another, it was home to some of the strongest magic users in the world and nobody had ever quite figured out why. And lastly, the two most popular names, by far, were Arthur and Merlin, followed closely by almost all of the other knights of the round table. Arthur had lived most of his life as “Arthur P.” and sometimes, but only when he was in an extremely accepting mood, “Artie.” In any given class there was at least one, more likely two.

Gwaine didn’t quite understand why he wasn’t allowed to call him Artie, but he’d stopped trying after the second time Arthur had cockblocked him while wearing tight purple pants and eye liner. Revenge had been sweet.

The fact that Merlin was named Merlin had nothing to do with it. “It’s because he’s perfect in practically every way. And he might as well be our age. And he’s amazing. And I saw him at Gaysoc last week! He was hanging out with some lesbians but I’m a modern accepting guy and surely they’re okay, despite having vaginas and all. And his eyelashes, my god, Gwaine, you haven’t seen his eyelashes.”

Arthur sprang up out of bed to continue. “He has hair the color of raven wings! And lips like pillowy nougat! And nimble fingers that could probably take me apart and put me together again!” Gwaine threw a book at Arthur’s head. He dodged and lunged at Gwaine’s side, who was laughing upon impact. “I will have him!” Arthur crowed.

“Sure, sure. It’s destiny,” Gwaine said.

Arthur arranged himself top to tail on Gwaine’s bed so his feet pressed up against the rugby calendar on the wall. “Well it is. You make jokes about the name thing, but I saw him do magic today.”

“Ah, is that what brought this whole thing on? Have a bit of a kink?”

“Well, it is often rather sparkly, and you know my feelings about glitter.” Gwaine rolled his eyes. “No, seriously! Why is he here? At Tintagel? It’s like he’s wasting it! Floating Dr. Freeman up the stairs! All that gorgeousness and he’s got magic?” Arthur sat up, seized Gwaine’s shoulders. “I must know!”

“There are plenty of magical people here. They even have a scholarship and everything.”

“Please. You know as well as I that nobody who can do anything worth anything goes to Tintagel. The program is shit. And it’s not like he’s weak. He was filing slides.”

“Filing slides takes powerful magic?”

“It does when you float them all above your head, project them onto the wall with witchlight, and organize them dozens at a time into Dr. Freeman’s elaborate file structure, without any verbal commands, while you’re grading a paper.” Arthur might have, well okay, yes, a small kink for magic. And he knew it didn’t maybe sound all that impressive to Gwaine, but the fact was Arthur knew what took power and what didn’t, and basically imbuing a small level of sentience into an image so it could organize itself while you were busy with other things was an almost shocking amount of control and use of power for such a normally mundane task.

Magic users who could do that didn’t stay at Tintagel to further their studies. Merlin was an enigma. A gorgeous enigma. A gorgeous powerful enigma. Arthur was maybe crushing a little hard and possibly was going to sprain something. His crushing muscles.

Gwaine had been quiet for a moment, allowing Arthur to drift, but he brought him back with a slap to the knees. “Get out.”

“What?”

“Get out, go for a walk, I don’t know. Take your books or something. I’m having a wank. You can come back in two hours.”

Arthur pouted. “Leisurely wank, there.”

“Out!”

Arthur took his books and headed for the closest coffee. He really didn’t _want_ to pry about why it would take Gwaine two hours to masturbate. That was one mystery best left unturned.

 _Fuck destiny,_ Arthur thought, and turned back up the road to the faraway cafe attached to the history building instead.

It was like Arthur had known it. Or, okay, it was like Arthur was a bit of a creeping creep who paid attention when Merlin had mentioned he was often available for questions in the cafe if you couldn’t find him in the broomcloset of an office he’d been given. There he was, a small defensive wall of books built up around him on the table, all long, elegant lines and rumpled student canvas and flannel, laughing with what Arthur, in his daze, perceived as a charming twinkle in his blue eyes.

So taken with the laughter was he that, in his march toward Merlin, Arthur didn’t notice that he was laughing with somebody sitting in the other chair.

“Oh, Arthur! Do you know Merlin?” Arthur almost tripped over Merlin’s bag on a hard turn to the left. Hands came out to brace him - not Merlin’s - and then he spluttered, coughing. So much for a suave entrance.

A chair was grabbed for him and he was settled into it by none other than Mithian Nemeth, to whom he had not spoken for three years.

“Alright there?” Merlin was holding his hands up in a steadying gesture, as though Arthur might tip out of his chair at the slightest provocation.

Mithian Nemeth had been older, kind, worldly, a bit naughty, rich, thought he was dreamy, and completely gracious when Arthur had had a big gay freak out with his face two inches away from her labia. His guilt had taken the form of extreme, complete, contact-deleting facebook-blocking avoidance until such time later that year as Mithian had safely informed mutual friends that she was off to uni. It had never occurred to him to ask where she was studying.

“I had heard you were here, Arthur. You know your father actually emailed me himself? I didn’t want to pry, though.”

Merlin was flicking his gaze between the two of them, trying to figure out the connection. Arthur, hot everywhere and wanting nothing more than to curl up and die, images of dancing vaginas floating in his head, grunted a sort of response.

“Oh, I’m sorry, let me get you a coffee.” Mithian finished her small talk and went to the counter. It was like a spell had been lifted. Arthur shot Merlin a suspicious look, but he was just tapping some papers together.

“Let me guess,” he said under his breath, “you’re the one that made her think her gaydar was broken.”

“Wh-What makes you think that?”

“She kept hitting on me when we first met. At Gaysoc.”

“Mithian’s gay?!”

“No no, shh, calm _down_. Friends of friends. She’s shy, you know. She stopped coming after a few times.”

Mithian came back with a steaming cup, three sugars and two creams. “Do you still take it like a little girl?” she teased.

Arthur straightened up. He could do this. There were apparently no hard feelings, and Merlin was right there to impress. “Some of us have matured, Mithian,” he said, and tipped only two of the sugars into his cup and both of the creams. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome. Now, tell me how you and Merlin know one another.”

The fact was, they didn’t, not really. Arthur had been fantasizing for a while, but their actual interactions were shamefully small. He was trying to change that, but here Mithian was, in the way. Arthur opened his mouth to respond, but Merlin cut him off.

“Arthur, here, is the smartest kid in my NHist101 who can’t write a paper to save his life.”

“What!”

“It’s like you skipped basic composition entirely.”

“I! I did _not_.” Awesome comeback, there.

“Well then tell me why your class participation, quiz and speaking is exemplary but you apparently don’t know what a comma is for, let alone a structured argument.” Merlin thumped their latest essay down in front of him, a big red C on the bottom. Every page was littered in little red circles and notes in the margins.

Arthur supposed now was not the time to tell Merlin that he couldn’t read his handwriting.

Mithian coughed, pulling their attention away from each other. “So I guess I should leave you to it? Arthur, really, we should catch up sometime, okay? You owe me a coffee.” Arthur watched her go out the door before he could remember to say goodbye.

“Look, Arthur,” Merlin’s voice was quiet, perhaps a tinge embarrassed. “I’ve actually been meaning to send you an email about this. I wanted to ask you to arrange for some review sessions with a writing tutor.”

Arthur picked at the edge of his coffee cup, ripping little crescents and arranging them in a neat pile.

Merlin leaned in close, hand splayed out on top of Arthur’s paper. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that with Mithian here. It was out of line. I’m new at this tutor thing, and sometimes I forget that there are... rules about stuff. But you really are better than this, I think.”

“Do you think?” Arthur tipped his head up, looking out from beneath his lashes, and smiled coyly. It was like Merlin was just handing it to him. Maybe Merlin felt it too. “Are you, are you sure I shouldn’t have private lessons with you?”

Merlin reared back. “I’m sure. It’s not really the done thing, and I don’t have the time to spare.” He began packing his bag, stacking books and papers, and shrinking them down with a flash of gold in his eyes. No spells, again.

Arthur broke away from staring at the unaffected display of power. Shit! He’d fucked up again.

“Stay a while? Let me buy you, ah, are you a cappuccino man?” Arthur saw the dregs of foam in Merlin’s empty mug by his elbow. _A cappuccino man? _Was there a worse possible line? “At least wait with me while I finish mine?”__

__Merlin finished stacking his miniaturized books and stood, floating his mug to the basin by the trash. “Sorry, I’m very busy and important.”_ _

__“Well, hey! My cup’s disposable, how about I walk with you? Lovely day out, it’s sunset!” Arthur scrambled up out of his chair and ran after Merlin. At the corner, Merlin turned about and watched him come. When Arthur parked himself toe to toe with him, he let out a sigh. It ruffled Arthur’s hair. Then he abruptly turned back around and strode down the street, not checking to see if Arthur followed._ _

__“Are you aware that it is against university policy for a tutor to date a student?”_ _

__“Are you aware that my father is on the board?”_ _

__“Are you aware that that, if anything, makes it worse?”_ _

__“Are you aware that...” Arthur tossed his rapidly cooling coffee into a bin. “Look, Merlin, it’s only for a couple more months, and then you won’t be my tutor.”_ _

__“What makes you think I’m at all interested in you? What are you, seventeen?”_ _

__“Nineteen. Gap year in Canada. What are you, secretly forty?”_ _

__In the ensuing silence, with only Merlin’s stomping and the traffic rushing past to break it up, Arthur momentarily freaked out that maybe Merlin _was_ forty. Or maybe four hundred. He’d heard about some magic users with extremely extended life. Maybe this was like, Merlin’s sixteenth degree. Maybe Merlin was a vampire! Maybe Arthur had read too many books he’d stolen from Morgana during that Canadian gap year._ _

__Merlin stopped at a brick house tucked in among some of the larger buildings on campus. “This is me.”_ _

__“You live on campus?”_ _

__“No. Technically, this isn’t campus. And also technically, I don’t live here.” Merlin rummaged for his keys among the tiny books. Arthur looked at the brass plaque by the bell, and at the obviously recently-added ramp cutting off half the width of the steps and through what once was a bed of flowers._ _

__“You live with Dr. Freeman?”_ _

__Merlin looked chagrined, holding his keys but not going in. “He’s an old family friend. I help him out. You know that. I help him at home, too.”_ _

__“Do you...” Arthur came up the narrow steps to be closer to Merlin. “You’re not actually Freeman’s age and your magic keeps you unnaturally young and you’re husbands and you masquerade as a tutor to keep up appearances and you’ll have a tragic story of broken love when he gets too old and dies before you, right?”_ _

__Oh, god, where had that come from?_ _

__Merlin was laughing, though, great big chortling gulps. He laughed so much that his keys dropped out of his hands and Arthur swooped to pick them up._ _

__“Here,” he said, their fingers brushing as he handed them back._ _

__Merlin snorted, and swiped at a tear in his eye. “Look, I’ll... see you in my tutorial next week?”_ _

__Arthur nodded glumly._ _

__“And maybe, after the break, we’ll...” Merlin was very close when Arthur looked up, and he couldn’t help it. He leaned in, kissing Merlin square on the lips. It actually made a “mwah!” noise when Merlin pulled back, eyes wide._ _

__“Sorry! Sorry. After the break. I’ll. Not gonna happen again. See you in class. And that’s it. I... Goodbye!”_ _

__Arthur, having exhausted all reserves of dignity for the day, of which he had very little to begin with, ran down the street, ignoring the sound of keys dropping once more onto the cement behind him._ _

__A week later, Arthur tuned out the low-drone snores of Elena beside him, and paid attention to Merlin. “You’ll need to bring money for lunch, or pack something that can stay in your bag all day. The coach will leave at nine fifteen, so if you’re late you’re out of luck, and yes, you will have to write a paper comparing two historical objects of your choosing. Flash photography is not allowed, but you may take normal photos for non-commercial, private purposes...”_ _

__Merlin was handing out papers while giving his little speech, having wrestled the huge stack of them from Gaius’ lap earlier after a small, quietly fierce argument. After the ill-fated coffee and kiss, Arthur had tried sitting way in the back of the room, avoiding eye contact and not raising his hand, but it hadn’t lasted. For one, Merlin had still emailed him about writing lessons, and that just had to be argued before he gave in. For another, Merlin kept bloody smiling at him when he showed up in class, and how on earth was Arthur supposed to do anything but fall back into the nearest empty seat and smile dumbly back?_ _

__Today he was sitting in the front row, and when Merlin handed back his most recent paper, with a nice red B on the bottom, he murmured “well done, Arthur,” and had the audacity to lightly bop him on the head with it before letting it fall to the desk._ _

__It was entirely possible that Arthur was going to die. He was well on his way to melting into a pile of unscoopable goo when Merlin picked up Elena’s text book and thunked it back down, making her wake with a squeak. The rest of the class muffled a laugh._ _

__Dr. Freeman spoke up. “Now then. Most of you have shown improvement in recent weeks. But, as this is an introductory course, I have had to keep the subject matter quite general. Camelot Castle is our country’s finest historical landmark and museum. Each of you would be best served as we wind towards exams by selecting objects that have relevance to your chosen area of study. I am certain that there are exhibits that will interest even the most eccentric among us. However, if you find you are having trouble deciding, or perhaps it is in an obscure location, you need simply to ask Merlin.”_ _

__Merlin looked up from across the room. “What? No, I don’t...”_ _

__“Nonsense, my boy. Merlin here worked at Camelot for numerous summers during his youth. Please consult with him before Saturday after next if you are having trouble coming up with ideas. I am told that their full catalog is available for perusal on the web.” He paused a bit before saying the word web, like he had to pull it up from the back of his mind. Dr. Freeman was a good lecturer, and a thorough instructor, but Arthur considered it a blessing that he taught history, which by nature did not change over time. “However, this means Merlin will not be available for consultation on the day of the actual trip, as I’m certain he will want to catch up with old friends.”_ _

__At Camelot, they made all their employees wear historically accurate garb. Images of Merlin, ganglier and spotty, trooping around Camelot’s stone corridors in red livery, flashed in Arthur’s mind. It was all he could do to hold back a laugh. He did grin though, and wiggle his eyebrows at Merlin, who did nothing so much as pout, like a five year old._ _

__“Gaiu-Dr. Freeman, I’m not totally sure that I’m still up to date on everything. Parts of it are a living museum, and things will have changed...”_ _

__“Surely it will be fine.” Dr. Freeman gave him a stubborn stare, and that, seemingly, was that._ _

__Arthur had been to Camelot before. It was only about two hours’ drive away from anywhere in the country and everybody went there for school trips at least once. The castle was beautiful as always, wood smoke curling up from the historic village nestled behind it, making the air fragrant. Cheery red flags waved in the autumn breeze atop the ivory turrets. Security guards dressed as knights motioned the coach in along the paved drive to let its passengers off before heading behind the tree screen of the Darkling Woods’ parking structure._ _

__Normally, Arthur would have been looking at an enjoyable day. He would have looked forward to the free time to explore after lunch, and he even would have enjoyed the assigned task for class. It wasn’t hard to pick two objects for comparison that had relevance to political science at Camelot Castle, after all. Arthur would have liked to eat some kind of semi-historically-accurate meat pies at the restaurant in the village, too, and maybe even quaff some ale. So okay, he’d had a reenactment phase as a boy. It had been fun, there were swords, and if Arthur liked anything, it was phallic objects._ _

__But all that crumbled away when he’d sat down in the coach only to have Merlin plunk himself down right next to him on the lurid polyester seat._ _

__“Er, morning,” Arthur ventured, after mentally shaking himself._ _

__Merlin grunted, and took off his shades, only to wince and put them back on immediately._ _

__“Did you, um, have a nice Friday night?”_ _

__Merlin ignored him, and appeared to be cooing quietly at a thermos of tea he had either summoned out of the air or hidden on his person among the pile of jumpers he was wearing. The thermos was plaid. Arthur thought it was the damned cutest thing he’d seen all year. He was hopeless._ _

__After at least twenty minutes, during which Arthur had curled back into the window and tried very hard not to drape himself all over Merlin, the man in question sat up sharply and gasped a bit._ _

__“Arthur?”_ _

__“Er, yes?”_ _

__Merlin seemed to be squinting behind his shades, as though he was making absolutely sure he’d sat next to Arthur, and wondering how that had happened, exactly. “Never, ever, ever do shots with a man named Gilly.”_ _

__“I’ll take that under advisement.”_ _

__“Seriously, if you’re airing your grievances and somebody says that the solution is shots? They are wrong.”_ _

__Arthur wanted very much to know what those grievances were, but he didn’t pry. Gwaine had been a good influence that regard. “Ah, but sometimes shots help you see things in a, er... clear light, so to speak.”_ _

__Merlin groaned. “You, of all people, are not allowed to speak to me about clear light.” And then he went back to praying to his tea._ _

__The rest of the ride involved Arthur obsessively watching the sliver of space between their thighs, to make sure they did not brush. Merlin napped, drank more of the seemingly endless tea, and napped some more. By the time they arrived at the castle, Arthur was completely distracted and had no idea how he was going to get through the day, let alone the next hour._ _

__Merlin’s eyelashes fluttered when he dreamed. Merlin occasionally snored daintily. Merlin smelled like pears and grass and pomegranates. Merlin’s hair curled at the back as it dried. Arthur did not need to know any of these things. In fact, knowing these things and not being able to do anything about it was going to drive him insane. He needed to get away, get out, and he fairly leapt onto the drive and past the crowd of stretching classmates into the nearest washroom._ _

__This was not how it was supposed to go. Arthur was supposed to have been plucky and pushy and desirable, and Merlin was supposed to have been flattered and charmed, and eventually succumbed to Arthur’s wiles. Arthur was absolutely definitely not supposed to be having an emotional bloody breakdown in the ye olde watere closset of Camelot Castle’s ticketing lobby because Merlin sat next to him with a hangover. He splashed his face at the tap, and wiped himself down with a too-large pile of paper towels._ _

__Of course, when he looked in the mirror past his own face, there was Merlin, shuffling in and heading directly for the urinals. Arthur felt stuck to the floor, listening despite himself, unable to move for what felt like forever, until Merlin shuffled to the sinks next to him, and bumped him with his shoulder._ _

__“Thing about magically replenishing tea is that you never quite realize how much you’ve drunk of it till it’s almost too late, right?” He finished washing his hands and touched Arthur on the shoulder. “Come on. Tour first. Wouldn’t want you getting lost, now.”_ _

__He dragged himself back out of his head where he was blithely not thinking about how that hand on his shoulder had just been touching Merlin’s dick and walked robotically after him to the lobby. He did not look at Merlin’s arse. He also did not flare with jealousy at the nice woman in a corset who greeted Merlin with warm familiarity, and snuck him an anachronistic bottle of water after releasing him from her ample-bosomed-hug._ _

__“Welcome to Camelot Castle and Historic Village, everybody!” The tour guide had a little mini Camelot standard that she waved above her head. “Follow me to our first special exhibit, the kitchens, which might not seem like the first pick, but in fact contains more information about the average citizen of the castle than any other area...”_ _

__Arthur was just about through the list of all the things he was not thinking about and not doing fifteen minutes into the tour when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked to his left, where nobody was standing. But Merlin was leaning against the wall towards the back. He crooked his finger, and Arthur felt the tap again. He shuddered. Merlin hadn’t even mouthed a spell. His eyes hadn’t even shown power. Did he have any idea what he had? Maybe he’d just never been tested._ _

__The tap on his shoulder turned into a poke. Oh, okay. Arthur faded back away from the tour to lean as nonchalantly as possible against the wall next to Merlin._ _

__“Let’s blow this pop stand,” Merlin said out of the corner of his mouth._ _

__Arthur’s mind had stopped at the word “blow.” Merlin looked at him with frank amusement, and then turned around the corner into what had once been a pantry. Arthur gathered up the pieces of himself to follow._ _

__There were a few “guards” hanging out by a courtyard exit to the pantry. Merlin gave them a wave. The older of the two waved happily back and said “cheers!” and then went back to arguing about the latest football match with his coworker._ _

__“I figure you don’t care about the tour either, right?” Merlin was leading them around the edge of the courtyard and beneath a stone arch with carved gargoyle spouts to either side. “What’re you doing for the paper?”_ _

__“You want to talk about the paper?” Arthur managed to ask._ _

__“What’re you, polisci? Round table and Subroman two headed eagle shield, done and done. Right? I’m right, yeah?”_ _

__“Um, maybe? Is there a reason you need to know?”_ _

__“Well, figure I’ll need to get you to them before the day’s out, that’s all.”_ _

__They were stopped at the foot of a straight stone stairway, leading up somewhere that was apparently cordoned off to the public._ _

__“Because you’ll be, um, spending the day with me?” Arthur asked._ _

__Merlin kicked at a stone with his toe. “I was thinking, yeah.”_ _

__“What about all of your, you know, old friends?” Arthur forced himself to ask through a smile._ _

__“You kidding me? They all think Merlin was a stage name.” He climbed the stairs and dipped under the velvet rope. “Come on.”_ _

__“Stage name?”_ _

__“I, er, was the resident sorcerer.”_ _

__“You were not!” Arthur noted the piles of strange objects along the halls, the dim electric lights in the sconces. Helmets and signs and piles of outdated pamphlets._ _

__“I was so. I had a show twice a day four days a week. Sometimes I juggled eggs.”_ _

__“Like, as the original Merlin?”_ _

__“I sincerely doubt he ever demeaned himself so much as to juggle eggs. But yes. Technically. Kids ate it up. They’d always ask me to stay on after the summer, but school and Mum and well, you know how it is.”_ _

__They reemerged from the secret corridor into an upper level with wide hallways and beautiful arched windows. Merlin abruptly turned to the right and pushed open heavy wooden doors with a creak._ _

__“Welcome to the King’s bedchambers.”_ _

__Any and all questions Arthur may have wanted to ask about Merlin’s days as magician for hire fell off his tongue upon seeing the lush fourposter. That was it. Merlin had taken him to a secret room to kill him via blueballs._ _

__“Come on, it’s just an old room. It’s not haunted, swear it.” Merlin laughed, and pulled Arthur into the room with a tug on his wrist. “This exhibit’s closed for renovation. It used to be my favorite spot. They made a newer, faker one three rooms over. Off with your shoes. Don’t want to muss the carpets.”_ _

__“So this is...”_ _

__“Where King Arthur was often swanning about in the nude? Evidently, yes.” Merlin plunked himself on the bed like Arthur’s head hadn’t just exploded into a tiny million pieces. “The greatest thing is that they’ve got a real mattress on here. Come on. Picnic. You brought something, yeah?” He patted the dropcloth next to him, and fished for something in his pocket. It turned out to be a very tiny lunch sack, which he made larger with a prod of one long finger. “Hope the bread’s not all smushed. I could only find my skinny jeans this morning.”_ _

__Arthur found himself sitting next to Merlin on an incredibly comfortable bed eating their packed lunches and at a complete loss for words. Merlin nattered on, about how when he first started working at the castle he’d sometimes sneak in here for naps and that was his original plan today what with the hangover, about how it was the real, original bed and the new one was all styrofoam and plaster and paint, about how the other Merlin who did magic shows was always bitter about him being able to get away with not wearing the official hat. Arthur contributed mostly by humming in agreement, and occasionally raising his eyebrows during bites of PBJ that didn’t actually take that long to chew._ _

__It wasn’t that he didn’t want to know all of these things. Arthur was just... Merlin was partially a mystery and it was possible that some of that mystery contributed to the attraction. He had a lot of questions but he realized abruptly that he didn’t want to ask them._ _

__Merlin finished his lunch and balled up the trash. He took Arthur’s, too, and smushed it up with his, and then poked it again, watching Arthur watch him. Everything shrunk to about the size of a coin. “Recycle that later,” he said, handing it back to Arthur._ _

__Arthur took it gingerly, wondering at the tiny, perfect paper creases, and slipped it into his shirt pocket._ _

__“Look, do you want to ask me why I’m at Tintagel instead of somewhere else?”_ _

__“No! I, of course not. It’s a really good school, after all.”_ _

__“It’s just, whenever I do magic, you look at me like you’re a starving man and I’m a giant roast goose. I have to admit it’s flattering, it’s just... Did you... You’re actually from Albion, right?”_ _

__Arthur spluttered. “I certainly am! I’m from Camelot, if you must know!”_ _

__“Why on earth are _you_ at Tintagel, then?”_ _

__“My...” Arthur considered making up a lie, but thought better of it. “My father met my mother there. And now he’s on the board. And after I came out to him, the first time he smiled was when I said I’d like to go there.” Suddenly defensive, he tried to get up from the bed, but it was too plush, and Merlin pulled his elbow back before he could struggle his way up._ _

__“Tintagel is a really good school, Arthur.”_ _

__“Yes, thank you.”_ _

__“And I go there because I can’t afford anywhere else. That’s all. They want me there. They pay me to be there. Gaius has been trying to get me to tutor for a while. It’s not actually a big mystery. I’ve helped him at home since the beginning. I’m a local.”_ _

__“Oh.”_ _

__“Yes, oh. The magic, my magic, it’s not that big a deal. It just sort of... is. I know I’m powerful, but it’s not what I want to have my life be about.”_ _

__Arthur noticed Merlin was still holding his elbow, and he started laughing at the thought that it was a rather strange place to be an erogenous zone._ _

__“Do you think, well, that Arthur knew about Merlin when he was a servant?”_ _

__Merlin frowned at Arthur’s subject change. “I really don’t know. It’s all very vague.”_ _

__“Well but if King Arthur was wandering around in here, in the nude, and knew Merlin had magic, it’s like he willingly hung around naked with someone who was always fully armed with a really sweet sword that could kill you from across the room. You have to wonder what kind of freaky shit the man was probably into.”_ _

__“Arthur Perkins, you are a pervert,” Merlin said, and kissed him._ _

__It was a much better kiss than the one from before, and Arthur arched into it without hesitation. He did not think about Merlin’s lips being like nougat or about how the magic was utterly irrelevant or about anything whatsoever. His mind was blissfully clear, and they kissed and kissed and Arthur thought of nothing at all except for how to keep it going._ _

__He leaned back, and shimmied his way to the head of the bed. Merlin, wonderfully, delightfully, followed him up, crawling on top of him and sneaking a knee up between Arthur’s thighs._ _

__At some point Arthur came back to find his shirt unbuttoned and Merlin mouthing at his shoulder. “Hey, what about, um, the policy? thing?” He almost couldn’t finish the sentence, if perhaps it was a breach of memory and the mention would interfere with the excellent goings ons near his nipples and surrounding areas._ _

__Merlin lifted his head, his lips red and soft. “Ah, this will come as a shocker, but you can actually switch tutors. I didn’t want to have to grade your work anyway. I was thinking about you all week and I still gave you a C. Gaius argued for your B. He said I needed to encourage you.” And then he lunged forward and bit at Arthur’s lower lip like he had a much better idea of how to encourage him than kind grades._ _

__Arthur was not in a position to argue. Arthur was in a position to reach down and unbutton Merlin’s cursed skinny jeans. Merlin responded with an affirmative hum, but when it was clear Arthur couldn’t manage it with one hand, as the other was snuck up under Merlin’s jumpers to keep him pressed close, Merlin sat back on his knees. He looked down at Arthur, considering, taking in the bulge in Arthur’s trousers with frank appreciation, and then pulled his jumpers over his head in a great big pile of knit, chucking them to the far corner of the ridiculous huge bed. He made quick work of his own buttons, and only paused for an affirmative nod from Arthur before snapping his open as well, and pressing himself down, all along Arthur’s chest._ _

__Arthur got with the program then, working his cock out and then, as Merlin sucked on his ear and made it nearly impossible to coordinate things like hands and brains with all that skin touching skin and sensation skittering along, managed to tug Merlin’s erection free of his pants too. Their dicks snugged up together and they both let out a mutual sound of pleasure._ _

__Then Merlin started laughing, and Arthur didn’t know why. It wasn’t like Arthur was extremely experienced. Maybe he’d done something weird. There’d been this one guy in Quebec, but..._ _

__Merlin was saying, through his giggles, “I’ll show you a really sweet sword.”_ _

__Arthur had no recourse but to bite him on the jaw._ _

__Somehow, Merlin came first, his pants pushed down to mid-thigh. Arthur thought maybe it would push him over the edge, the wet heat pulsing between their stomachs, his hands working along Merlin’s spine, the little hitching sounds Merlin was making. But it wasn’t quite enough, and after a moment, Merlin scooted back to look at him again._ _

__“You’re supposed to be the hair trigger in this, you know.” He bit his lip, not that it needed it._ _

__Arthur closed his eyes, reveling in the sensation of Merlin dragging a finger through the come splashed along his stomach. “Ah, sorry? I think? No, no, I’m not sorry at all, keep doing that,” he said as Merlin dragged a wet palm along the shaft of his cock._ _

__Merlin didn’t. Instead, he knelt down and put Arthur’s dick in his mouth._ _

__“Oh my god!” Arthur jolted, trying to find something to hold on to. Merlin was, there was sucking, and licking, and Arthur’s hands found the carved edge of the headboard, cold and smooth, and he clung to it so as not to tear at Merlin’s hair, because he wanted to keep the hair, and wow, Merlin was _humming_ , and making his tongue ripple along the vein under his cock. It was too much, or perhaps exactly enough, and Arthur came with a shout and squeezed the headboard, his fingers digging in hard, his muscles tensed. _ _

__With a great, noisy tearing sound, a chunk of the headboard was wrenched up and flung across the bed, where it landed near Merlin’s jumpers._ _

__When Arthur opened his eyes, little white flakes were sprinkling down, landing on Merlin’s hair like unmelting snow. He blinked, eyes wide._ _

__Arthur watched as Merlin licked a drip of come from the corner of his mouth._ _

__“So,” he began, either one minute or one year later, “we appear to have destroyed the royal bed of King Arthur in the course of our passion.”_ _

__Arthur knew somewhere in his mind there was a logical explanation, but he was too terrified and come-dumb to understand. Merlin reached over to separate his jumpers, using the corner of one to wipe up the come from both of them. Then he balled it up, shrunk it, and put it in his back pocket._ _

__Eventually Arthur realized he was supposed to protest. “I did not! How...”_ _

__“Relax. Wrong bed. You don’t have super strength and you didn’t make a mess I can’t fix. Most royal and ancient wood, difficult to repair. Styrofoam and plaster, easy.” Merlin snugged Arthur’s dick back in his trousers, kissed him, and then, as far as Arthur could tell, very briefly reversed time only for the molecules that constructed the headboard and nothing else. Arthur watched as the chunk flew back over his head, the little pieces that had fallen down pulled inexorably back into the ragged edge._ _

__“Oh. They switched the beds,” Arthur eventually said._ _

__“Yes. Now, we have to book it, because I’m pretty sure people heard you.”_ _

__So they ran, down the stairs and through the alleyways and around the great curving defense walls, laughing as they dodged anybody in a red cape, as though word had traveled and they were wanted for crimes against fake ancient and royal furniture._ _

__Arthur passed with a B._ _

__THE END_ _


End file.
